The Replacement
by EloraCooper4
Summary: Dom and Mal Cobb attempt to find someone to replace Mal while she takes some time off for her pregnancy.  It doesn't exactly go as planned. Ch. 3 Up!
1. Chapter 1

Note: I just wanted to say thank you to those of you who reviewed both of my Inception stories. Especially those who reviewed "She Was Lovely." I never thought a fic that focused on Mal would be read by a lot of people, nonetheless reviewed so wonderfully. Thanks so much for that. This fic will be a couple of chapters long, and it is somewhat a loose companion piece to "She Was Lovely," but if you haven't read it you'll be fine on your own. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

"I told you that I didn't want you to come." It wasn't a plea or an argument, it was a simple statement. One that Mal Cobb brushed off with the greatest of ease.

"Honestly, dear, I'm a better driver than you are and I couldn't let you drive all of the way to the Las Vegas strip on your own," Mal replied her delicate hand moving the shift into reverse, then drive, before driving out of the hotel parking lot. Glancing at her husband, she allowed her red lips to curl up into a mischievous grin that Mal seemed to patent all herself. "Plus, if we are going to find my replacement, I want to make sure that the man is at least adequate."

Dominick Cobb sighed deeply, although his lips, too, formed a smile. Sinking into the passenger seat, he stared at the file in his lap. "No one could take your place, baby, but we gotta find someone. I don't mind you driving now, but I sure as hell don't want you doing any jobs."

"No jobs?" Mal asked with raised brows while she turned onto the highway with ease. "Dom, darling, I'm pregnant. I'm not dying of some strange disease. Women have done plenty of things while pregnant. I could make a list if you would like, powerful women with big bellies out on the front."

"Oh really?" Dom asked crossing his arms. "Could you please go through list for me? I'm curious."

Mal blinked and paused. "Well, the Virgin Mary for one."

"She rode a donkey and had a child in a barn. Granted the child was the son of God, I don't remember when she took on King Herod with a sidearm," Dom commented scratching at the stubble on his chin as if he was doing his best to remember that section of the Bible.

Admitting slight defeat, Mal laughed leaning over to smack her husband's leg. "I'm sure I'll come up with someone. But really, Dom. I'm fine. Besides, I'm only a few months in, no one can tell at this point."

Dom had this argument with Mal before, many times before. Yet, it didn't anger him that they were having it all over again. It seemed like every time they argued Mal warmed up to the idea of time off more and more. "You've already fallen out of a dream prematurely once," Dom pointed out. "We aren't sure why that happened and there was never any research done on the affects of dreaming and pregnant women. I'd rather not use you two as guinea pigs." He explained calmly as his hand found Mal's stomach.

At first, when Mal told him that she was pregnant, Dom pulled out her top and spun it.

He'd never been one for kids. They were foreign beings that were little versions of humans, but they didn't seem to understand society yet. Dom was never fond of teaching people, and it seemed like they needed to be taught everything. Even how to go to the bathroom, yeah, Mal would be in charge of that one. Now, though, Dom had some time to really think about becoming a father. Dom and Mal bought a house, one that they were furnishing and they began with the baby's room. He never thought he'd so excited about designing such a space. Sure, he'd done it before in dreams, but this was different. It was their baby. A piece of Mal and a piece of him. That fact that a smaller version of Mal would be soon brought into the world sold him on the baby idea. She was so damn wonderful, a baby of hers could only be as wonderful.

"If you insist, I'll miss it though," Mal admitted scrunching up her nose. Being the daughter of Miles did imply that she was born into the world of dreams. In fact, her first trip into a dream was when she was only seven years old. It was always a part of her life. "I'm still driving you around though."

A few chuckles fell from Dom's lips. "Fine, until your belly is too big you can't reach the wheel."

"I'll be ignoring that comment," Mal chirped not wanting to think about becoming that pregnant yet. "So, tell me about this person who is replacing me."

Dom opened the file, his eyes scanning through the information. "Name is A. Goode. He's the son of two former big shots in Vegas. They owned the Sunstone Casino. It's not as popular as Trump and such, but it has a respectable income. Both of Goode parents made at least a million a day on it before they died in the 70s."

"How did they die? I'm doubting it was innocent," Mal commented.

"I doubt it was innocent, too. It was listed as a car accident, although according to the crime report, their brakes might have been cut. Goode inherited it all, makes two million a day, probably more than that due to inflation," Dom stopped only to look up at the lights that welcomed him to Las Vegas. While Dom was never a gambling man, at least in that sense, he couldn't help but feel a certain level of excitement coming to such an iconic place.

Mal seemed to sense this and leaned over to pat Dom's leg. "Perhaps we can play a few rounds of Black Jack when we find our new co-worker. But I'm still not convinced that he's right for the job. Maybe if we were going to run a company ourselves, or play slots-"

"You didn't let me finish. The Goodes were connected to an interesting family. The Carmines. They were quite the deal in the 1920s. Prohibition age. It seems as if the Carmines had no problems opening some of their own little dancing establishments that had some drinking on the side."

"Let me guess," Dom nodded to Mal knowing that she could put two and two together. She continued, "The Goodes needed a loan for a new casino, the Carmine heir is glad to chip in as long as the Goodes help them out every so often and leave them free reign of the casino."

Dom winked at her. "You got it. Plus, it seems like Mr. Goode has gotten himself involved in some minor scuffles. The young, Derek Carmine, was also involved in each fight. They were always on the same side. Mr. Goode also seems antsy as of late. Buying more yachts and more cars. He needs something else in his life."

Mal glanced over at her husband. "So, we're going after Goode because he has knowledge of running businesses, something that we always deal with and he's obviously had some training from the mob."

"You're so smart, no wonder I married you," Dom replied closing Goode's file.

"Here I was thinking it was because you loved me for my good looks," She teased, stopping the car at a stop light. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a sign advertising for the casino that Dom mentioned. "We headed to the Sunstone then. To meet him?"

"I am," Dom corrected her. "I'm meeting him. You're dropping me off and you're going to drive around the neighborhood until I call you."

Mal followed the sign for the casino, although her whole body seemed to sink at this new information. This was the last time she would let Dom do all of the research while she was out picking fabric for the baby's room. "You know I want to meet him. It's a meeting, Dom, nothing more. It shouldn't be a problem."

"It's the mob, Mal. I'd rather it not be a problem," Dom said simply, his voice firm and unmoving. There was no way he was going to allow his pregnant wife to wander through a casino with strong ties to the mob. "I'll be sure to tell you all about it. And if you think I'm gone long enough, call Eames. Someone."

Mal scoffed. "Eames is going to run up from Australia to help you? No offense, baby, but I think you'll be dead before his plane lands." She pulled up to the Sunstone, her hands tightening around the wheel. The idea of leaving Dom here wasn't appealing. "Why can't we just get Eames to join us?" She asked knowing that they could trust the forger.

"You know as well as I do that Eames can't be tied down. He'll help here and there, but part of a permanent team? He can't even stick to one scent of cologne." Dom leaned in and kissed Mal gently on the lips. "I'll be fine, I promise. Who knows? Maybe I'll even bring back your replacement."

His wife closed her eyes for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but if you get yourself killed I'll be very angry with you."

"I'll be sure not to die then," Dom responded giving Mal another quick kiss before exiting the car and heading into the casino's main doors. Mal watched her husband show his card to an attendant. The card was fake. It said that Dom was a businessman, a powerful one, all that Dom needed to add was that he had an appointment with Mr. Goode. The attendant's face turned a ghastly white obviously nervous at being so close to Dom. It seemed that everyone knew what type of business connections were discussed at the Sunstone. He then led Dom inside of the casino.

"Breathe," Mal told herself before driving off. If Dom thought that she was going to wander around the city and wait for him, he was an idiot. Mal parked in the visitors' parking lot, paid the ridiculous fifteen dollar fee for doing so, and then slipped into the casino. Why not try some Black Jack?

Meanwhile, Dom followed the attendant inside of the main room of the casino. Women in barely any clothing serving drinks. Loud music. The smell of cigarette smoke everywhere. The annoying beeps and trills of the slots. The calls of the dealers at the tables…yes. It was Vegas. Though it didn't seem as if Dom was bound to enjoy any of it.

"Right this way, sir," The attendant opened a side door behind a walled curtain for Dom. "Follow the corridor up the stairs and show the men there your card. Have a nice day." Without a beat, the man quickly left Dom alone in the corridor. After experiencing the loud colors and loud noises of the casino floor, the corridor was rather boring. It was a simple hallway. White floors, white walls, white ceilings. Even the visible piping was white. Dom felt a little out of place standing there with his black suit and black tie.

Dom cleared his throat and moved down the corridor. Hopefully this would all work out in the end. He didn't want to drag this replacement thing out forever. Mal needed to be on the sidelines, and Dom needed to continue working. While they made a good amount of money doing what they did, very little of it stayed in their hands. They had to pay for bribes, for information, for the chemicals …even though it wouldn't seem like it…the money went quickly. And now that a baby was on the way, well, they had to pay for that new nursery somehow. Not to mention the house. Dom needed to be in a job as soon as possible, but he knew better than to go it alone. He needed one more person by his side. All he could do was hope that this meeting went well with Goode.

Turning a corner, Dom caught a glimpse of the stairs that the attendant was referring to. Reaching up to his collar, Dom loosened it. Think positively, he told himself as he climbed the stairs. When he placed his left foot on the top stair, he heard someone's sharp cry. It echoed down through the corridor. As soon as he placed his right foot next to his left, he heard a body hit the ground. Then another.

Dom reached inside of his suit jacket to pull out his gun. So much for this being an easy meeting. He kept the gun to his side as he inched closer to the end of the corridor. A few steps closer and he saw the two bodies on the ground. Big bodies, clearly bouncers who had a hefty steroid plan in the morning. One man had his arm around his neck as if he decided to choke himself with his own arm. The other had a small dart on his lower neck. Dom dipped down and placed two of his fingers to one neck and then another. They were alive, but barely. Who ever had done this wanted them to survive, but he or she wanted them out of the picture.

All Dom could think was 'Thank god Mal is in the car.' This was turning out to be much more interesting than he planned. Dom leaned his back against the wall, and pushed forward looking inside of the door that was cracked open. From what Dom could see, it was a posh office. Red carpets. Tapestries. Bar. The works. Dom cracked open the door a little bit more to see Goode. Mal's possible replacement was currently on the ground facedown, squealing for mercy. There also was a man's shoe planted firmly on the back of Goode's head.

"Why are you doing this?" Goode groaned spitting out some blood as he spoke. "I know you, man!"

Dom stood against the door now to see the man who held power over Goode. He was incredibly lean, incredibly young, and incredibly well dressed. "Not as well as you thought you did, Adam. You weren't the only ones to lose your parents, you know. You were there that night, and you're paying for it." The man uttered his voice a mixture of calm anger and…relief. Taking a step back, he aimed his gun at Adam Goode's head and pulled the trigger. The young man was now covered in Goode's blood.

Standing there in utter shock, Dom could only watch the lean young man crouch down and place the gun in Goode's hand. His finger around the trigger. Silently, he then pulled out a small packet of grey minerals and sprinkled it around Goode's immense head wound. Then he pulled out a piece of paper from his coat, and placed it inside of Goode's pocket. The man pulled one more thing out of his jacket, a handkerchief, which he used to wipe away the blood on his suit. He seemed incredibly displeased by this new stain. After doing what he could for the suit, the man wiped his face clean and then returned the handkerchief to his own suit pocket. The man took one last look at what was left of Adam Goode, and sighed, "Thank God it's over." Then he moved towards the window of the office. After opening it, he glanced around the scene one last time.

Dom dared to slip closer, almost inside of the room, wanting to get a good look at the man before he escaped out the window. When he did, he saw something that he hadn't noticed before. On the man's jacket was a small nametag, a nametag for the casino. It only had one name on it.

Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Thanks for all of the reviews for the first chapter. I hope that the rest of the chapters live up to your expectations!

When Cobb entered the casino floor again, he knew he shouldn't have been too shocked to see Mal at the Black Jack table. He had hoped that impending motherhood would curb her gumption. Yeah, he should have known better.

"There you are, I thought I told you to stay with the car," Dom whispered into Mal's ear with no warning.

Mal just smiled warmly as if she was expecting him. "I thought of a woman who was in battle while pregnant. Hua Mulan. She was a warrior and went out to the battlefield when she was with child. She dressed as a man, but I do prefer dresses so we'll leave that out, shall we?" She glanced over her shoulder to show her husband that smile of hers that always captured him.

"Place your bets, ladies and gentleman," The dealer proclaimed after passing a pair of cards to each player.

"That was a quick meeting," Mal commented placing a few chips into the pot. "Were you sure to be your charming self?"

Dom sighed. "It didn't exactly happen. We do have a new man to look into. Ask around about someone who works here. Arthur. We need to learn about him the old fashioned way before we make any more moves." There was no need to explain how Dom had come across this Arthur and what he did to Adam Goode. Not yet at least. "Just promise me to find me if you come across him."

"Excuse me, sir," The dealer interrupted. "We are playing a hand. You must wait to be dealt in or leave the table."

"Sorry," Dom took step back while Mal took a peek at her cards. "Got it?" He called out taking a glare from the dealer.

Mal just waved her hand, her eyes firmly planted on her cards. "I'm busy, dear."

He'd take that as a yes. With that, he headed towards the main office of the casino.

Studying her cards, Mal tapped the green. The dealer passed her another card. Those playing around her eyed her suspiciously, probably because that she was the only woman playing cards in the entire casino. Mal always was one to break boundaries. "Well, gentleman, I do believe that I have 21." She laid out her cards. A Jack, a three, and an eight. The others at the table groaned as Mal collected her chips. "I think I'll cash in when the game is good."

Gathering up her chips, she headed towards the "cash in" booths. There were two booths, one was ran by a man and one by a woman. It was an easy choice for Mal.

"Congratulations, Miss," The young woman replied in a fake tone. She was a red head, her pale face looked drawn and tired. Bored really. Mal couldn't imagine that pretending that you were excited for drunken gamblers over and over was an exciting task. It was even better for her though, if the girl was disgruntled, she was more than likely to share secrets of this…Arthur.

Mal offered the girl, her nametag read Sara, a large smile. "Thank you." Glancing around the room, Mal had her eyes search through the crowds desperately. Then she returned to Sara, who appeared to be staring at her. Sara's eyes dropped immediately back to counting the chips. "Sorry. I don't mean to be inattentive…I'm waiting for someone," Mal explained nervously. Eames wasn't the only actor in the business.

Sara nodded politely. "You have won a total of 352 dollars. Would you like to start a Sunstone account and save your winnings for your next visit?"

"Can you cash it?" Mal asked while noting to herself that this alone could pay for the baby's crib. "I have an evening planned you see. Maybe you could even tell me…" Turning around, she scanned the casino floor to make sure that they weren't being watched. "One of your co-workers asked me to meet him in at his apartment tonight. Could you give a girl some advice? His name is Arthur. Am I in for a romantic evening?"

"Ma'am I don't think that this is appropriate…" Sara stopped her words as soon as her brain registered the name. "Arthur? He asked you to go back to his apartment? I doubt…I couldn't imagine him doing that. You sure it was Arthur, the bartender?"

Mal managed to blush on cue. "Believe me I know it was him. He doesn't have a girlfriend does he? She work here? She's not…you?"

"Oh no," Sara let out a harsh chuckle as if it was ridiculous to think of him in such a way. "Arthur is…if he asked you then he must really like you. I've never- he's always been so serious about everything. Especially the job here. I never thought that he'd even date anyone." Suddenly realizing that she was talking about a co-worker's personal life with a customer, Sara closed her mouth tightly and passed Mal a receipt along with her cash. "Have a nice day."

"I will, thank you. I will surely have a nice night at," Mal winked at the girl. It was information. The guy was focused with no real love life, well, at least according to his co-workers. It was helpful, but Mal needed more. Thankfully, she knew that Sara was about to give her just that.

Mal sat down only a few feet behind the cash-in booths. She took her make up case out from her purse, and started to slowly apply lipstick with the help of a compact mirror. Without looking back she clearly heard Sara mutter, "Danny. Did you hear that? That woman I just counted, she's going back to Arthur's place tonight."

"Arthur?" The man from the nearby cash-in booth snorted. "Bull shit. I don't think Arthur even knows what sex is. Did you hear what happened when Deanne tried to flirt with him? She was showing him her boobs and her leg was on his…he just said that he wasn't interested. What kind of man pushes Deanne away? Not me. She was convinced that he was gay."

"Even if he was, he wouldn't be the damn robot that he is," Sara grumbled as if she was annoyed by his mere existence. "It's like, why live life you know? If all you're going to do is mix drinks and do whatever Adam Goode tells you to do."

"Probably gives him a boatload of cash you know," Danny suggested suddenly quiet, a customer must have passed the booths. "Why else would he be friends with that asshole?"

"Didn't you know? Fran said that they grew up together. That they were friends in high school and so Adam's uncle gave Arthur a job." Sara explained. "Shit we'll talk about this later…"

"Hello, Mr. Hallot, how was your day at the craps table? Better than yesterday I hope."

Mal closed her compact and stood up. That, that was plenty of information. Now to find that pesky husband of hers. On her way towards the bar (she had a tendency to find Dom there), she saw a whole squad of cops rushing through the casino. Strangely enough the gamblers didn't seem bothered at all by the police's presence. Half of them didn't bother to look up from whatever game they were playing.

Dom snuck up behind Mal and slipped his hand into hers. "Hi, gorgeous," Dom muttered while eyeing the cops himself. "I think we should start heading towards the exit." The police always put the two of them on edge, if they were ever caught up in something by mistake their occupations were sure to come up.

"It's strange. That no one seems to care about the police," Mal whispered to him, her fingers interlacing with his. "Though, I must ask, love, what happened to our first replacement?"

Dom decided to ignore her as he led her towards the exit of the casino. "Did you get information on him? Arthur?"

Mal nodded glancing up as EMTs passed them. "Yes. Mostly work gossip. Seems that our new friend doesn't have much of a life beyond this place. And he's best friends with Goode, they have been since they were boys. His co-workers believe that is why he has a job here as a bartender."

Dom's eyebrows raised in surprise. Some friendship that must have been. "I borrowed his file from the office. We'll read it in the car." While Mal was talking to Sara, Dom pretended to be someone from corporate and demanded Arthur's file from a terrified secretary, but there was no need to go into that.

The couple walked quickly through the parking lot and slipped into their car. Mal couldn't help but notice there were more police cars coming their way. "Dom," She whispered. "I can deal with you being coy for only so long. What is going on here?"

Dom pulled Arthur's file from his suit jacket and opened it up. "Goode can't be our new replacement. He's dead, Mal."

"How…did you decide that Arthur would be our new extractor? He mix you a fantastic drink after you saw Goode's dead body?" She questioned those big eyes of her very hopeful although she knew that that was wishful thinking.

"No, he was the one who killed Goode," Dom explained simply while passing a photo of Arthur to Mal.

Mal took the photo gently as if it would crumble in her fingertips. "Dom, I don't want to work with a murderer. Even…" Her eyes caught Arthur's for the first time, it made her pause. "He looks like a puppy. Are you sure this is the man who killed Adam Goode?"

"Positive. I don't know how to explain it, Mal, I just have a feeling about this," Dom replied his eyes meeting his wife's once again. "Just trust me okay? I don't think that he's a psychopathic killer. There were two guards outside of Goode's office. It would be been cleaner for him to kill both of them before he went after Goode, but he didn't. He just made sure that they were unconscious."

"Oh how nice of him, he only killed one person," Mal groaned rubbing her face with her hand. "Dom, I understand your hunches. I was all right with working with someone who may have killed someone in a mob like setting, but this is just…he killed a man who was the young leader of a casino. A man who apparently has been his best friend since boyhood. Why would he do that?"

"Jealousy?" Was Dom's first guess.

Mal shook her head. "Not for a woman at least. Money…maybe, but I doubt that Adam Goode had much of a Will at such a young age. Perhaps if he did have a Will he would leave it all to his best friend, but I can't imagine that would go well with the other investors in the casino."

Dom skimmed through Arthur's file. "There is nothing here beyond that picture and an emergency contact information. He has his grandparents listed, but a note was added that they passed away. No new emergency contact since then."

"So, you are alone in the world beyond your best friend. Therefore you decide to kill him…Dom, I don't like this," Mal admitted. When Mal had reservations everyone tended to take notice as she was most often the risk taker.

But Dom was adamant. "There has to be more to this. Right before he left the room, he said 'thank god it's over.' He also mentioned that Goode was there that night, and that he wasn't the only one who lost his parents."

"Arthur was raised by his grandparents," Mal supplied although hesitantly. "Arthur's parents died as well. No information on them in the file?"

"None."

"Maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe Arthur's parents worked with Goode's and then things happened as they tend to do working for the mob. But why his best friend?" Mal stared out into the distance now.

Dom pulled out Arthur's emergency contact information from the file, and placed the file itself under his seat in the car. "We can do a few things now. One, we can leave this behind and keep looking for a new co-worker. Two, we can do more research. Go to the local library, find out about Arthur's parents, how they died, then go from there. Or, three, we have Arthur's address. We extract what we need to know. If he's safe we'll take him, if not we'll move on before he even knows we were in his dreams. It's up to you." He leaned back in his seat watching his wife's face for any sign of a decision.

Mal put her fingertips to her mouth. "I need you to do one thing for me. I need you to tell me why it is that you think that Arthur would be a good replacement for me. Why we should try this?"

"Fair enough." Dom agreed taking a deep breath before he explained, "This kid is about one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. He managed to take out two guards that looked like they were on a constant drip of steroids. I was in the corridor when he did it, Mal. I could barely hear it happen. Not only did he take them out, but he didn't kill them…then after he killed Goode, he covered his tracks perfectly. Suicide note. Slight trace of gunpowder to prove Goode put the gun to his own head. This wasn't a crime of passion, Mal. He thought it out for a long while. We need someone who can plan, and we need someone who can do the job. Take out projections, distract them."

"But all of that doesn't mean a damn thing if we can't trust him," Mal practically whispered.

"Do you wanna end this? We can keep looking, you're not too far along-"

"No," Mal replied suddenly. "No ,I want to stay on this. You've…you've peaked my interest, damn you. I just imagine. Dom he looks like he's twelve years old, and he's alone in the world…."

A smirk curled up Dom's lip. "You wanna take in another stray?" Mal always had a fondness for lonely outsiders. Dom himself was the first example of that.

Mal smacked his husband's arm lightly. "I'm just saying. We'll go to his apartment. We'll go into his dreams, and we'll find out who he is. We'll talk, and then if we want to keep him, we will. And if he turns out to be a deranged killer…you…you owe me a diamond bracelet," She said with utter conviction.

"Deal," Dom muttered trying not to smile too much, but he couldn't help it. He loved his wife too damn much. "Let's find, Pierce Street. Glendale Apartments, number 41A."

"Sounds charming," Mal mumbled before backing out of the parking lot and heading back out to the open road.

The Glendale apartments were only ten minutes away from the Vegas strip, but there was no sign of glitz and glamour to them. In fact, they were rather…dirty. The buildings looked like a series of cheap motels patched together from the 60s. There was a swimming pool in the middle of the parking lot, though no one would want to go swimming in it. The water was a deep green color, it evoked more of a swamp quality than a pool. Uncontrolled greenery surrounded the pool area, weeds, grass, any sort of life was trying to poke through the old battered concrete.

"Just like I thought, charming," Mal replied glancing over at Dom.

"Well we aren't staying here for the night, just remember that," Dom patted his suit checking for the familiar feeling of his gun, while Mal did the same with a pistol attached to her leg under her dress. Both satisfied, they slowly moved from the car. "It doesn't seem to be a social area," He pointed out before pulling a silver suitcase from the backseat. The only thing that seemed to be moving around them was the swamp pool's surface, no doubt frogs had moved in.

Mal shook her head. "No. Suppose not. Let's go." Her eyes scanned the apartment numbers which were labeled clearly. "There it is." She pointed towards the very end of the first building, second floor. "End unit. Maybe he has a bigger living room than his neighbors."

Dom had to smirk just a bit, at least she had a way of keeping herself amused in these situations. The couple climbed the stairs and headed towards Arthur's apartment. Standing in front of apartment 41 A, Dom took a deep breath before pounding the door with his fist. "Excuse me, could use some help here." He banged on the door again waiting for any response. Usually, even strangers, would answer the door if there was a plea for help.

"Not home," Mal whispered after Dom banged on the door one more time. "Go for it, love." She turned around and watched to make sure that there were no prying eyes on them.

Meanwhile, Dom dropped down to the lock, pulled out picks from his pocket and started to work. Five minutes later, he turned the door knob and pushed the door to Arthur's apartment open. "We clear?"

"We're clear, no one is stupid enough to live in a place like this," Mal muttered, turning around to follow Dom into Arthur's apartment. The first thing that hit them was the smell. It reeked of cigarette smoke so much that Mal coughed a few times into her hand. "My god, someone has an addiction." She glanced up to see her husband with wide eyes staring at the far wall of the apartment.

"Yes, I think he does," Dom whispered.

The entire wall was covered from floor to ceiling with papers, post its, and markings in a deep red. In the very middle of the wall was a set of pictures. Dom recognized Adam Goode with a large red "x" across his face. There were three other pictures. Each one had the same large red "x". Below the pictures were maps which were clearly labeled. The grounds to the casino, the pipes of the casino, the airshafts, the whole city of Vegas, the casino to this apartment, all laid out. Numbers were placed here and there, it took Dom a few moments to realize that they were times. How long it would take to get from the front door of the Sunstone to Adam's office. How long it would take from the Sunstone parking lot to return to this apartment. It was all planned. On top of the pictures were letters. Notes from Adam Goode to Arthur. Some looked like simple notes that you would pass to a friend in math class. Others were official papers. A welcome to the Sunstone casino, a letter of Condolence for Arthur's grandparents from Holland Goode, Adam's uncle…

There were more papers on the wall that Dom didn't get the chance to investigate. Mal's hand was on his shoulder. "We're leaving," She whispered stress clearly in her words. "No way, Dom. No fucking way. This is something a serial killer would do! We need to go now."

"Excuse me."

Mal and Dom froze for a moment only to turn around to see a man at the door. He was incredibly lean, incredibly young, and incredibly well dressed. His name tag read Arthur.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Thanks for all of the great reviews of chapter two. FYI, only one chapter is left after this one. Also, this marks my first dream attempt. I'm not exactly sure how "correct" it is when it comes to the rules for dreaming, but I tried to make it dramatic and interesting. Hope it's okay!

"Excuse me," Arthur said getting the attention of both Mal and Dom All they could do was stare at him at first, perhaps unbelievingly at their bad luck. As soon as Dom gained his head, he took a step forward, covering Mal with his own body. Arthur studied Dom's face for a moment, as if he was trying to remember someone. "It was you wasn't it? Outside of the office earlier today?" Arthur asked with no anger or even annoyance. If there was any emotion on his face it was straight curiosity.

Dom needed to get Mal out of here. Now. "Look, can you please let my wife leave? She's pregnant." Mal's fingernails attached themselves to Dom's side telling him that she wasn't going anywhere without him, pregnant or not.

Arthur gazed at Dom for a few moments before saying, "I'm not...holding you hostage. The door is still open. Both you and your wife are free to go." Dom stared at this kid in amazement. He didn't know whether to be comforted or terrified by the fact that this man was so indifferent about the whole situation. If Dom didn't know better, he would say that Arthur was having a normal conversation with them. Maybe he'd ask about the weather next.

"So we can just go?" Dom asked in disbelief. Although it was starting to look like that there was a way out of this mess, his body was far from relaxed. Dom's left hand could reach for his gun at any moment. The only thing that worried him was that he didn't know if he could draw faster than Arthur could.

"You both can go. Just you got to do something for me, okay?" He asked while taking a few steps into his apartment. "I need you to not say a word about this. Not a word, not even to each other ever again. Because I'm pretty sure you know what I can do if I need to do it," Arthur explained without detail, all he had to do was meet eyes with Dom. Yes, Dom could fill in the blanks.

"You...you won't follow us?" Mal questioned behind her husband.

"No," Arthur said shaking his head, glancing at the wall for a moment. "I kinda have more pressing things right now. So go ahead." He took a step to the side so they could head right for the door. Calm as can be.

Dom, turned back slightly to hold Mal's hand, and slowly inched towards the door. He kept Mal's body to his side now, away from Arthur. His eyes stayed on Arthur, though, who only watched them in return, making no movements to lunge at them. When Dom reached the doorframe, he made sure that Mal was on the stairwell. Satisfied, he turned to the other man. "You're good at what you do," He murmured, "But you don't clean up what's left behind I'm sure anyone would tell you it's bad for business." Dom knew now that Arthur wasn't working for the mob. The mob would waste anyone who came near to knowing the truth. No, it seemed that Arthur was working for one person, himself.

Arthur tilted his head to the side like a confused dog. "I don't like killing people, mister, but some people deserve it. Others don't. Now if you don't mind, I have some tidying up to do." It was Arthur who closed the door on Dom. Mal stood by not sure whether to kiss her husband or smack him for talking to Arthur after all of that. Turning to leave, she caught a glimpse of the inside of the apartment through a narrow opening in the drapes. Arthur was peeling down each paper from the wall carefully and placing it in a box. The man didn't rip it down with anger or obsession. He treated each letter, each map, each photo as if it were an old friend. The box he was stacking it in was labeled 1985-1999.

"It's over," She whispered to herself. "He's done."

"What do you mean?" Dom reached for her, to remind himself that she was really there. God knew that they were spinning that top as soon as they got in the car.

Mal just nudged her head forward. "Look. He's taking it down. He even..he looks sad. Didn't you say after he killed Adam Goode that he said aloud that he was done. I guess he is...with all of this." When Mal stopped speaking she seemed to notice just how crazy all of this was, "Okay, I need a drink." Which was then followed up by an angry, "Damn, I'm pregnant."

Dom let the slightest bit of a smile grow onto his face, holding Mal's hand and leading her down to the car. All the while, he knew that he should be glancing over his shoulder. To make sure that Arthur kept his promise, to make sure that he wasn't going to come after them. But somehow, he knew that Arthur wasn't. He had no interest in them.

After getting into the car, Dom stared back at those drapes. Not exactly looking for Arthur, but musing on his existence. "He didn't even hurt us. Didn't even have an interest."

Mal licked her lips before saying, "Those papers that he had on the wall. Some of them were from ages ago. He's been planning this for years, not days, years. Did you see the year on the box? 1985. He would have been five or six years old then." Mal looked over at her husband and found his hand with hers. It was such an overwhelming feeling for Mal. Not being able to go into dreams anymore, not being able to the risk taker that she was all her life. She had to hold back now. That baby of theirs deserved to live and experience the world, but that meant that Mal had to leave her husband behind with a stranger. On the surface, their occupation was so harmless. After all, if you were killed in a dream you would wake up. But it was when you woke up that the danger really began. Mal and Dom created quite a few enemies from jilted employers, vengeful marks, and even jealous dreamers who believed themselves to be the better than the infamous Cobbs. Mal didn't want to leave Dom with someone who was just learning the ropes. But if she had to leave him with anyone, she wanted it to be someone who knew how to shoot a gun. Someone who knew how to protect someone else, and how to stay hidden.

She was convinced, Arthur was her replacement.

"Dom, we have to go in," Mal murmured her fingers interlacing with Dom's. "We need to see why this happened to him...just to make sure that he's the one. But I think he is...we need to go in."

Dom leaned over and kissed Mal's forehead. "I will. Tonight. Tonight, we'll learn all about Arthur."

* * *

"Arthur," A girl whispered passing Arthur a note over her shoulder.

A teenage Arthur leaned forward slightly so he could take the note and maintain an eye on Mr. Kent. Granted, Mr. Kent's biology class wasn't the most exciting, especially when he was discussing the beauty of cells, Arthur needed to focus on his work. But there was always that one person who always seemed dedicated to distracting Arthur.

Looking two desks over from his own, Arthur saw Adam Goode. Adam decided to wave to his friend rather animatedly.

"Adam," Mr. Kent's voice echoed through the tiny classroom. "Would you like to share with us the different qualities of the cell wall?" His eyes narrowed perhaps hoping that he caught that Goode kid for once.

Adam turned to the front and cleared his throat. "Sounds so much better when you explain it, Mr. Kent."

The students of the class tried to stifle their laughter. Arthur, did not laugh at all, instead, he opened the note and read, "Artie, SNOOZEFEST, huh? Who cares about cells as long as they're making me up yeah? Or Michelle. Did you see those cells around her boob area today? I mean, c'mon. How can I concentrate? You still on for Friday? -Goody."

Arthur wrote his response on the paper, "yep," and passed it back. No need to get into detail. Mr. Kent was writing on the board again, which meant that Arthur had to go back to his notes. Everything he wrote on the board was always on the test. Arthur had to write down the notes word for word...if for no other reason, Adam would need them later. He was one hell of a good friend.

"Now!" Mr. Kent orated, "We shall begin-" There was a knock at the door. An interruption.

"Yes!" Adam hissed loud enough for the entire class to hear him.

A thirty-something man poked his head in the classroom door. "Hi there. I'm William Charles, new guidance counselor here. Hi everyone."

The students seemed less than interested in Mr. Charles although they were thankful that Mr. Kent's lecture was cut short for the moment. Arthur flipped to the back of his notebook, and saw those four names that he had written over and over again. Adam Goode. Charlie Mara. Jack Sorrento. Francis Liotta. Absently, he ran his pencil over the "A" in Adam again before turning to the "d." It was his habit, he would do so again and again until his pencil pierced through the light cardboard. Adam asked him about the names once, and Arthur simply said it was the names of all of his best friends. The other names belonged to friends he had before he moved closer to Las Vegas. That was what he said anyway.

"I'd like to see Arthur and Adam outside please," The new guidance counselor announced.

Adam groaned and pulled himself from the desk. "At least I don't have to listen to this shit anymore."

Mr. Charles raised his brows. "Charming. Coming Arthur?"

Arthur took a deep breath and slipped his books into his book bag before following Adam outside. The guidance counselor closed the door so the three of the could have complete privacy. "I'm going to be honest with you boys," He started crossing his arms. "We just got word at the guidance department that the two of you may be gambling on school property."

"What! No way, man. That's ridiculous," Adam lashed out right away, knowing full well that gambling on school grounds was suspension worthy. "It's because my parents owned a casino isn't it? So fucking stupid."

"Mr. Goode, please let me remind you of your language," Mr. Charles commented although he kept his cool. His eyes transferred over to Arthur. "What do you have to say about this?"

Arthur put his hands in his pockets and paused.

Mr. Charles raised his brows. "Arthur, what do you have in your pocket?"

Arthur glanced at his friend, Adam was shaking his head. Rebel against authority, yeah that didn't always work well. Arthur tightened his fingers around the small object. Then he slowly pulled the object out from his pocket, and opened his hand. It was a red die. "I...we weren't gambling though. I just...it means something to me."

"I'm sorry boys, we're going to have to search your lockers. Can I have the die, Arthur?" Mr. Charles held his hand out to the boy.

Arthur glanced down at the die in his hand. A tightness was forming in his chest, he didn't want anyone to touch it. No, he couldn't let him have it.

"I'll give it back, Arthur," Mr. Charles assured him.

Hesitantly, Arthur allowed the die to drop into Mr. Charles' hand. "As long as I can have it back."

"This is ridiculous man," Adam complained his face getting redder and redder by the moment. "I don't know why the hell he has a die in his pocket. You shouldn't even showed to him, Arthur. What are you retarded?"

"Mr. Goode, why don't you go back into the classroom and I will come see you later. All right?" Mr. Charles offered, gently pushing the loud child towards Mr. Kent's classroom

Adam didn't seem to be too fond of the idea, but he knew he had no choice. "Can't believe this man," He muttered. Then he seemed to have an idea, "You know it was all Arthur's idea! Yeah, yeah it was all his idea."

"Good bye, Mr. Goode," Mr. Charles said obviously not interested in his confession. Neither Mr. Charles or Arthur bothered to look back at Adam as they headed toward the lockers. The lockers though, Arthur took notice of them. They were...wider than he remembered them. He was pretty sure last Tuesday he couldn't get that Biology textbook out of his locker because it was so narrow. Maybe he was mistaken...and weren't they a red color not green? Other students strolling down the hallway all seemed to snap their heads to glare at Mr. Charles.

"Arthur!" Mr. Charles put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You and Adam have been friends for a while haven't you?" The other students continued on their way now, without taking notice of either of them.

The boy shrugged. "Since about fourth grade, yeah. We got closer when we were in middle school though."

"Didn't seem to mind throwing you under the bus," He recognized aloud, glancing down at Arthur to see his reaction.

Arthur's reaction? Poker face. "He does that sometimes. Still, I gotta stay friends with him."

"Social reasons? Because he's popular with the other kids," Mr. Charles suggested.

"Kinda," Was Arthur's reply.

Mr. Charles didn't seem too enthusiastic about Arthur's response, almost annoyed really. "This is your locker?" He asked pointing towards a locker which was numbered 1985.

Arthur stood in front of it and nodded. "Yeah, that's mine."

"The combination?" Mr. Charles asked while taking the lock into his hands to input the four numbers.

"1999," Arthur said without a hint of hesitation.

Mr. Charles' lips curled up slightly into a melancholy smile. "Why don't we see what you're hiding, Arthur?" He tugged at the lock and opened the latch. As Mr. Charles opened the locker, Arthur's eyelids suddenly felt heavy. He was forced to close them. When he opened them again, it was pitch black. There was a warm familiar hand on his own, and a terrible feeling in his gut which was also familiar.

"Shh..." A voice murmured beside him. The person who was holding his hand. "We'll be fine. They won't find us in here."

There were other voices as well, but there were far from him. And they were loud. And they were mad.

"Can you believe it, Mr. Liotta? I mean, really. Did you think that you could waltz into the Sunstone and pull this shit? A loaded die on the craps table. Counting cards? Really? Maybe you should have tried that out at Atlantic City before your tried for the big leagues," A gruff angry voice laughed aloud, coughing immediately afterwards. Arthur sniffed and remembered the smell of cigars.

"I know it Mr. Sorreno. It's disgraceful."

"We didn't know what else to do!" It was Dad. He was out there with them. "We had no choice. I've been out of work for a year now, no one will take me cause of my bad back. I just can't work anymore. I had to find a way to put food on our table. Please. We'll pay you back. Every penny, we'll pay you back."

There was a smack. Arthur's mother screamed. "Leave him alone!" The person who held Arthur's hand, tightened her hold on him.

"Mr. Mara, I don't know about you, but I think maybe it's all this bitch's fault. She was the one with the loaded die. Weren't you? Nice and red, think we wouldn't notice? It's really just pathetic isn't it?"

"Horrible."

"You're right about one thing though, Jeremy boy. You are gonna pay us back. You and your wife. Just not in the way that you intended."

"We'll work for you," His mother offered, by just listening to her voice Arthur knew she was crying. "Anything. Please. Have mercy."

That was met with four roars of laughter. Three were old men, one was of a child. "You think that's funny, Adam? You're right. It is! Patheticness is always funny. And these two are hilarious. The two of you need to be wiped out."

"No please-"

"Do it, Mara. Adam, pay attention."

Two gun shots. Two bodies hit the ground.

Arthur huddled close to the person who was holding him. Arms circled around him tightly, almost squeezing him so much it hurt. A quiet whimper of internal pain came from her lips. Although Arthur could not see in the darkness, he knew that her eyes widened in utter fear.

"Did you hear that?"

"Fuck, did anyone look these guys up? Maybe they had someone else working for them or something?"

"I heard it!" A young voice chirped sounding incredibly proud of himself.

"Did you, Adam? That's great, kid. You're a natural. Could you tell us where it came from?"

Arthur felt her fingernails dig into his skin. They hurt, but he knew not to cry out. She told him not to. That they needed to stay silent. That Mommy and Daddy would be okay, but they needed to be silent.

"You heard it in the kitchen cabinets? Well let's see what's behind door number one shall we boys?"

It happened before Arthur could react, before he could understand what was happening. She pushed him away from her. Far away. So when Mara opened the cabinet door, all he could see was a girl. A lean, young girl with dark hair. Mara thrust his fist into her hair, and dragged her out of the cabinet.

"They had a kid! Good find, Adam. We don't want little scum getting out either do we?"

There was another gun shot.

It felt like hours later when Arthur finally climbed out of the cabinets. All of the men were gone. Adam was gone. All that was left behind was his family. His mother, his father, and his sister. He was alone.

Arthur dropped down to their sides, tears streaming down his face.

"Arthur."

He snapped his head up. Mr. Charles. His guidance counselor? It was then that he recognized him. The man in his apartment. "Who are you?" He started to ask standing up to face him. "What's happening?"

"It's your future," Mr. Charles said with a deep warm smile. He knew this was right. "It's time to wake up."


End file.
